Classic Poem

Two dirges by two poets have I read,
By two great masters of our English tongue;
One for the youth who rests his drowned head
Upon the mighty harp of him who sung
The loss of Eden; and the other, warm
From Wordsworth's gentle heart, o'er Goddard's grave,
By Keller raised, near Zurich's stormy wave —
Both beautiful, with each its proper charm;
The one so glorious — we are fain to blend
The name of Lycidas with that wild sea,
Where sank to deathless fame the poet's friend:
The other, with a humbler purpose penn'd,
Set one poor mother's stifled sorrows free,
And gain'd, by lowlier means, a sweeter end.